Help Her
by Sailor Latias
Summary: An alternate, slightly dark AU taking a look at one of the many thousands of possibilities should Aurora, Mulan and Phillip end up in Storybrooke. Proceed with caution.


Aurora was throwing plates again.

Mulan sighed from her spot across from him and watched as Phillip slumped against the closed wooden door leading to the kitchen. This was the fifth time this month the princess was driving him up the wall and it almost always resulted in him frantically dialing Mulan's number first thing. They don't talk about the first and last time he tried to calm her himself. Not unless he wanted David on his case.

"She needs help..." Phillip moaned, rubbing his temples, "but she doesn't want to hear it from me. I _hurt her_, I'm _only out to get her_, I'm _lying to her_. Dammit, Mulan, why is Aurora so selective? I'm her _husband_!"

Well, he was as far as he knew.

A woman of few words, Mulan wasn't quite sure how to give him a satisfying answer. The situation gave them little to work with, at least for Phillip. She could only justify, not soften. Slender fingers picked at the string of her shorts and began to play.

"You did kind of assault her... that first time..." she muttered, biting the inside of her cheek when she felt the cold glare of the former prince cut through the air.

"She was hysterical. It was supposed to wake her."

Oh, it woke her all right! Aurora's tantrums only worsened, and it was thanks to Phillip she refused to seek any sort of treatment. There was a vicious cycle Mulan soon found herself entangled in when she had been called upon by His Highness to put out the last four fires. That damned Sleeping Curse meant horrid nightmares and to prevent that, Aurora hasn't been resting properly. Lack of sleep meant dulled senses but heightened anxiety and paranoia. Paranoia and anxiousness inevitably went hand-in-hand with stress and that overflowed into Her Highness's explosive fits. Those ranged from inelegant blubbering nonstop for hours on end to raging and hurling any and every easily movable object within her reach out the window or at the walls, just as she was doing now.

They were lucky Phillip was a good cook and knew how to hide the scissors and knives so the poor girl couldn't kill herself.

She knew he had heard this conversation many times over, but if the prince had listened just _once_ to any of them, she would not need to waste her energy repeating it now. Mulan prepared a breath and never once broke his gaze. "You need to be gentle with her. Aurora was already a fragile flower and she's only gotten worse thanks to how you chose to handle it. She's afraid of you now that you've struck her and won't dare risk asking for help. She is too easily hurt. In her state of mind, you are no longer her prince, Phillip. You are someone to be feared, and nothing will convince her otherwise unless she gets proper rest... elsewhere."

He took a shaky breath and ended their staring contest by massaging his forehead. "By elsewhere... you mean with you."

"Yes," the reply was low but there. Judging by his tone, Phillip had heard her even though she had played the exact same tune as everyone else who knew of Aurora's fits. No questions, only resignation. "You've seen with your own eyes what I've done for her, and staying here would be unwise for her mental health, Phillip."

Something was being pounded against the floor. With every thud came an angry grunt and when the noise stopped, a howl of anguish followed quickly to prevent silence. This was again accompanied by another - rather large - thud and muffled sobs.

"Take her then..." he growled, "Do what you will, Mulan. But don't you forget that she is _my wife_."

No, she is _not_.

Then the warrior realized something.

It was quiet.

Mulan stole a peek at her cellphone clock before locking eyes with Phillip, who was looking rather annoyed at her until that moment. He too looked at the clock. Only 13 minutes - 45 minutes shorter than her shortest scene. Was Aurora done? The pair waited on bated breath for their princess to give them the final verdict.

A weak cry from behind the door said yes.

They exhaled, and Phillip hurriedly summoned the keys.


End file.
